


Nobel Peace Prize

by disillusionist9



Series: Choose Dare [55]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M, First Dates, Fred Lives, Humor, Neighbors, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disillusionist9/pseuds/disillusionist9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble #56 of 100 | Fred proves to be a persistantly annoying neighbor to Hermione who just wants to finish her thesis in peace on her balcony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobel Peace Prize

Hermione typed furiously at her laptop, immense satisfaction fueling her onward with the clacking of keys, mimicking the sound of hoof beats of a cavalry riding in to battle.

"You might as well be standing in the middle of the street banging on pots and pans," Fred commented, leaning against the fence to Hermione's apartment.

Not for the first time, she cursed their shared balcony, the _only_ shared balcony in the entire brownstone complex. Without looking up from her rapid typing, she reached over to grab her eco-friendly coffee mug, the metal edges beaten within an inch of its life after years traveling in her purse and school bags, but curled her fingers around empty air.

"They do make this stuff, Hermione," Fred said, "called creamer. It makes coffee more palatable."

Turning in her patio chair to face the menace, her sunglasses slipping down the bridge of her nose and catching on her flared nostrils, Hermione attempted to control her temper as she watched the man _drink her coffee_ , standing there shirtless and disheveled, like he had some divine goal to vex her to death. No one should be able to saunter out of their brownstone with pajama pants swung almost too low for physics to allow, large square glasses framing high cheekbones, and be completely awake before five in the morning.

"If you don't like my black coffee then give it back, Weasley," she snapped.

"No, thanks, I've completely run out." He brought the cup to his lips and drank a long, loud gulp, licking his lips to catch a stray droplet as he pulled it away.

She decided she was going to recycle the mug, with its carved emblem showing the Norwegian flag, the red and blue paint almost chipped away, into something more useful. Like a bludgeoning device.

Fred smiled brilliantly at her. Damn him, he had nice teeth, too. "What's got you in such a snit this morning, not that it's unusual to see my neighbor worked up over something."

"Oh, it _couldn't_ be the loud party my _dear neighbor_ threw last night, or anything. Ruckus until three in the _fucking_ morning."

"Seem to remember you were invited to that."

"Ha!" Hermione's barking laugh was only a few steps up from a scream of frustration. "I declined for a good reason, Weasley! I've been trying to write this article for the last three weeks, or have you forgotten?"

Fred's smile didn't waver, and he drew again from her mug. "I thought you might want help to stay awake finishing it."

"Oh, my GOD!"

Hermione stood from her patio chair, knocking it over in her rush, slapping her hands down on the flimsy railing separating her balcony covered in vines and flowers, and his with a cigarette stand and one broken folding chair. Eye level with two exposed pectorals, she was glad for the reflective sunglasses on her eyes to cover her glance at his chest, but her voice didn't falter as she poked that freckled chest, throwing all of her ire into that one move.

"You are a menace of a neighbor, Fred Weasley. If possible, you've gotten worse since your twin married and moved out, inviting those...those _ruffians_ over every other night to...I don't know what you do, besides throw each other against the wall and play horrid music all hours of the night."

Infuriatingly, he leaned closer to her and the finger pushing into his chest until her entire hand was forced to lay flat against the freckled and pebbled flesh. July had been a scorcher, but five in the morning still held onto the chill of a spring night, and he was covered in goosebumps, and she retracted her hand before she could decide the feeling wasn't entirely terrible. Or, she tried to, but the hand not holding onto _her_ mug, the one she'd purchased in Oslo to remember attending the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony, held her hand where it was.

"If I can't get you to come to one of my parties, let me buy you breakfast."

His breath tickled her nose, the tang of coffee washing over her, and evidence he'd brushed his teeth before walking out onto the balcony. Maybe the disheveled look wasn't as effortless as he let on...

"Why would I do that?" she hissed, regaining her composure some.

Fred's face, relaxed into what could only be described as a hopeful grin. "I drank all of _your_ coffee."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "How did you know that was my last cup of coffee?"

"I didn't!" Fred said cheerfully, breaking away from her to head towards his sliding door. "I guessed and you confirmed it. Get dressed, we're getting omelettes."

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms, not moving from her spot as he disappeared into his flat. The article,more of a thesis, really, was due by the following Friday, and she still had so much left to put together. But, Fred _had_ drank the last of her coffee, and she was barely functional without it. Her boss would just have to deal without getting it several hours early. Dressed, she tapped her foot impatiently, hair piled on top of her head, and not the least bit surprised she was able to put her contacts in and wash her face and still have to wait on Fred.

When he finally emerged several minutes later, she instantly stopped him with, "We're going to the place three blocks away, and they get busy after six thirty, so hurry up."

Even the irritated greeting didn't stop the skip in Fred's step as he followed his neighbor down the stairs and into the street, pumping his fist into the air when the shorter woman wasn't looking, months of persistence finally paying off.


End file.
